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When I’m making a Double IPA, this is what I like to call a dry hop charge:

as you can see in the background, I’m not even done yet.

In my opinion, which is always evolving, dry hopping creates the best hop character (= aroma and flavor). Thus, my IPAs are dry hop heavy, supplemented by a little flame out charge and single bittering charge.

But dry hopping has clogging issues, which is why I tend to use a bag or shark cage. Even still, when using whole cone hops, those little bastards float – it’s like a huge floating island, where some of the hops clearly don’t even touch the liquid. Besides dunking my hand in the water, I still haven’t found a great way to get hops submerged into the beer in a practical, uniform way. Normally I use pellets, which is easier, but when I use home-grown hops (as in the picture above), I always worry about not getting enough out of them. Thus, I overcompensate the dosage. Then, I worry about getting vegetal or “grassy” flavors.

In a few days, we shall see. Harvest IPAs are fun because you really have no clue what you’re going to get. In fact, since many of these hops are from a random friend that said “hey, take these hops”, I don’t even know the damn hop varietal! Could be Fuggle for all I know.

In all seriousness, for most IPAs nowadays, I dry hop about 4-6 ounces max, supplemented by perhaps 2-3 ounces at flame out. In the interest of money, I try not to go beyond 8 ounces total for a beer (1 ounce is for bittering). Maximizing your hops is really the key, which probably involves dialing in your water pH and using gypsum.

About six months ago, an odd looking gentleman came up to me at a bar and befriended me. He started talking about the greatness and superiority of the cult classic of IPAs: the New England IPA (NEIPA). Midwesterner that I was, I remained skeptical. I heard of NEIPAs – cloudy and ‘juicey’ – but I had never tried one. Indeed, they aren’t available in these parts. Luckily, this new friend was a homebrewer, and he made some damn good NEIPAs, which I liked quite a bit. Finally, I broke down and made one myself.

It’s real good, in a good way, that makes you say: this is good.

It’s totally different than a traditional (West Coast) IPA. A traditional IPA is bitter, dry, hoppy, and that’s about it. This beer, on the other hand, is slightly sweet, which comes from the malt (white wheat and honey malt) and the low attenuating yeast (london III). It’s not a typical sugar-like sweetness. It’s subtle, and makes you want to drink more. The beer coats your mouth, mostly the back of the tongue. I believe this is the secret of the NEIPA: you cannot stop drinking it. This keg will go fast. Next, hops. The hops are citrus and intense, but they fade away fast. The second day in the keg, this IPA tasted closer to citrus fruit than any IPA I’ve ever drank. Now, it’s more rounded out. It’s still very good, but not the same. This is the first beer that I payed close attention to mash pH. The cloudiness comes from the yeast and water profile (more chloride than gypsum).

After drinking this last night, fresh from the keg, I came to realize two things. First, I love Simcoe hops, especially dry hopped, especially a lot of them. Second, there are some beers that are so good, we feel the urge to share with others. This is one of those beers. I love it. Whether it’s the recipe, the Victory malt, the dark crystal malt, the loads of Simcoe and ridiculous amount of hops in general, or the interesting herbal Chinook hops, or the fact that I forget to fine it, the attention to pH, or all of the above? – it’s a keeper.

Immediately you get a huge hop aroma, and I mean yuge: citrus, fruity, pungent, floral. I really think Simcoe dominates the aroma. Some people describe Simcoe hops as “dank” or “catty”. I have no fucking clue what that means. Seriously…catty? Who was the first idiot to drink an IPA and say “I’m getting a bit of cattiness from these hops.” And what did the other person say? They probably nodded their heads in agreement, like the group-think-sheep we are.

The first drink is smooth. The hops are delicious, the Chinook gives a unique quality, the malt gives a nice backbone. Perhaps I would change the yeast to “London III,” as the Avery website suggests.

This “One Pot Brewing” experiment, in my mind, is over. In other words, I don’t feel compelled to post every single beer and repeat the same process every single time. After all, blogging gets in the way of brewing, and easy brewing is my style. The system works, damn it, and I’m happy. My next post will probably highlight my new kegging system, showing how One Pot Brewing can easily be used for kegging or bottling (or both at the same time). And then I might take a break. My next big project is to see if a book publisher will publish a book about One Pot Brewing (it’s more work than I thought).

Anyway, this Belgian Tripel is delightful and everything I want in one of my favorite styles: big banana and clove aroma, big yeast flavor (banana and clove with a little spice), nice dry finish. It’s very drinkable and high in alcohol. The malt is not Belgian, but regular American 2-row, which I like better (which probably is fresher, converts better, and has less diacetal possibility). The hops, Saaz, gives a subtle floral note. The bitterness is low to medium. The carbonation – thanks to kegging – is high and crisp, with a white foamy head and tight ass little bubbles.

this makes the beer look darker than it really is.

Not only did this beer turn out, and not only was it mashed and boiled for a measly 30 minutes, but it was a no-chill batch. I was a little worried it might come out too bitter. Not so. This beer also took forever to start the fermentation (two days), which might be normal without a starter. But I used a vitality starter, so who knows. Relax, have a homebrew, and it came out just fine. As usual, fermentation temperature was gradually ramped up from 66F to 85F throughout fermentation, giving off the beautiful banana/clove aroma that the Tripel desperately needs.

I am a devoted follower and advocate of brulosphy.com, a group of guys that do legitimate scientific experiments on the homebrew scale. I stress on the homebrew scale because that’s what’s important and what’s original about the site – they are not trying to debunk the science of brewing; rather, they are simply showing that many of the techniques that apply to professional brewing don’t necessarily matter or make a difference on the homebrew scale.

They have done over 100 experiments, and I take them all seriously. My cliff notes on the entire site: stop worrying so much; brewing good beer is easier than you thought; mind your water. At least that’s my interpretation.

These are the experiments I have incorporated into my normal brewing routine:

30 Minute Mash & 30 Minute Boil
I jumped for joy when I read these experiments. These are by far my two favorite techniques because they save the most time and, for me, guarantee a 2 hour brewday (and I’ve enjoyed 1:30 brew days). To brew a quality beer in under 2 hours on a Monday night or during my son’s nap- that’s a beautiful thing. In the official experiment, the author compared the same Oktoberfest, one mashed for 30 minutes and another for 60. Sadly a triangle test wasn’t done on this one, but the blind sensory panel was mixed and mostly split down the middle on which beer they preferred. They couldn’t tell the difference, although the author claimed to prefer the 60 minute mash (although he wasn’t blind to the experiment). Here he brewed a decent 2 gallon beer with a 15 minute mash and boil. Nice! Here he brewed a decent 5 gallon batch with, again, a 15 minute mash and boil (although he calls it “lifeless”). I think the recipe was to blame, honestly. Here they brew an 11 gallon batch and mash for only 20 minutes, a lager which turned out delicious and fooled everyone at a fancy homebrew conference. Here they brew a delicous hoppy NEPA mashed for only 30 minutes. Clearly cutting your mash by (at least) half works. I will honestly never go back. A few months ago, I was hanging out with a professional brewer that agreed: barley conversion, from starch to sugar, doesn’t take very long.

No Sparge
Another huge time saver and benefit of BIAB, my sparging technique amounts to grabbing a sack of hot barley (with gloves), squeezing it for a couple minutes, and discarding it. Efficiency issues can be mitigated by crushing barley finer and/or adding more malt. Or not caring. Turns out the only brulosophy experiment on sparging was actually significant; that is, people could tell the difference between a Kolsch that was sparged and one that was not. But only half of those people actually preferred it over the other beer. Continue reading →

Usually a fan of Stouts over Porters, my first inspiration to brew a Porter came after drinking one from Tibbs Brewing Company, a small Kalamazoo nano-brewery that makes the best Tripel this side the Mississippi. And a solid Porter to boot: it’s smooth and chocolaty, not too bitter or roasty. Perfect. Coincidentally and ironically, my ImperialPorter will be judged by the owner of Tibbs himself, on the next episode of the show I’m a part of. I will be going against two other Porters.

I remember my first Porter recipe having at least 2 pounds of chocolate malt in it, thinking “chocolate malt” meant chocolate flavor. In fact, it’s referring to the color of the barley, not the flavor, although it does impart coffee and cocoa flavor to the beer. This recipe, inspired from Gordon Strong’s Modern Homebrew Recipes, is a beefed up version of an American Porter with some English barley and orange-ish hops. The yeast is clean, fermented well, and adds no flavor or aroma, which lets the malt shine. The hops (Simcoe, Amarillo) are meant to add an orange flavor to the beer, since orange and chocolate go well together; however, I don’t get that at all. If the hops contribute anything, I don’t have the palate to detect it. The has a nice bitterness, which means less bitter than a Stout. The different between a Porter and Stout is basically: less roast, less coffee, less bitterness, less astringent harshness.

I really like this beer. It would be nice to experiment with some flaked wheat or barley, to give a creamy mouthfeel to the beer (I’ve never used flaked ingredients). Dry hopping with 2 ounces of Simcoe might be nice to get a more pronounced orange-hop aroma, although I honestly prefer a simple, smooth chocolaty Porter.

My brewing method is different during winter. I start with water from the kitchen tap, rather than the outside faucet (that is frozen). So the water is not filtered, which means it’s probably hard and chlorinated. After filling the pot with about 9 gallons of water, I crank the heat, crush my barley, cut the heat at 151F-155Fish, and begin the long 30 minute mash, stirring occasionally for better efficiency. Speaking of efficiency, I really crush the hell out of the barley – a BIAB perk. I set my barley crusher to it’s thinnest setting. My dunk the bag in the mash water method hasn’t been working – I get dough balls that I have to destroy. That happens with bigger beers, might be temperature dependent, and might have something to do with the finer crush. Oh well. After the 30 minute mash, squeeze the bag, add first wort hops, crank the heat, boil for 30 minutes, add flame out hops, and chill in a snow bank for a couple hours (getting Taco Bell in the meantime). Finally, put into Fermentation chamber, wait until the beer gets around 70F, add dry yeast, let ferment for about a week, put beer into keg, pressurize at 45p.s.i. for about 12 hours. Drink.

A year ago I made a really good Russian Imperial Stout. I said: “this beer is everything I want in a big Russian Imperial Stout…Big, dark, malty, dry, bitter, roasty, with a lot of hidden alcohol. I really, really like this beer.” I also said “I honestly wouldn’t change a thing and can’t wait to brew it again.” Well, a year later, I didn’t change a thing. Using basically the same recipe, which came from brulosophy.com, this beer is just as delicious – perhaps more so. Nice brown head, perfect carbonation, chewy, big bodied, smooth and drinkable, packed with flavor but certainly not too sweet. The bold, dark flavors are really impressive and pop out – coffee, chocolate, hint of raisin. When it’s 12 degrees outside, there’s nothing better than this:

If you look at the ingredients, I’m convinced that the pound of “Special B” malt matters and shines through. Special B description: “heavy, dark caramel taste with more subtle notes of burnt sugar, raisin, and dark dried fruits such as cherries and plums. It can also deliver some of the softer roasty notes of a chocolate or black malt but without the astringency or bitterness.”

Sans cherries, sounds about right to me. It’s a shame because I have so many other Imperial Stout recipes that I want to try.

Mind your pH?
Slowly, I’ve become convinced that water matters, and pH levels of the mash – which is a water chemistry issue – probably matters too. I wouldn’t care but someone gave me a really expensive pH meter, so I figured it was time to bust that bad boy out. When it comes to the pH of beer, there is a sort of ‘Goldilocks’ zone, an ideal range that beer should be in (google it). This allegedly contributes to clarity, hop expression, and overall quality. Logistically, there are different methods to deal with pH, ranging from building your water profile from scratch (RO water), to…the way I did it. The beginning of my brew day was the same as always – same recipe, same water from the tap, same amount. After putting the crushed barley into the hot water (mash), I took a pH reading. Surprisingly, it was quite high (out of the Goldilocks zone). Now is where you adjust. You need to add some sort of acid, which bring the pH down. So I added about 6 ounces of acid malt, available at any home brew store, which brought the pH down. That’s pretty much it. You can also use a liquid acid – like phosphoric – which is more potent and efficient and easier to store.

I cannot say whether this had any impact on the finished beer. Without a blind tasting of both stouts, it’s too hard not to be biased. And yes the stout from a year ago is gone. I also think pH is probably more important with pale beers and IPAs.

I ‘brewed’ this several months ago and stashed several bottles in the basement. Last night, my wife wanted a cider, so I went to the basement and cracked open a bottle. I had to appreciate the clarity, the sparkle, and the fizz of a simple cider fermented with champagne yeast.

It was delicious. You get a big whiff of champagne, high carbonation, a crisp refreshing bite, and a tiny hint of apple sweetness. This proves that you can make a good cider with the simplest ingredients: I literally added 6 gallons of regular apple juice on sale, from the grocery store, nothing fancy. I dumped the juice into a bottling bucket, added champagne yeast, and bottled about a week later.

For my next cider, I want to dry hop with about 4 ounces of Citra or Centential. I think that would add a nice complexity.

I was in the Taco Bell drive-thru with my brewing buddy Rob, after drinking some of his tasty East Coast style IPA. I was so full. For the first time in my adult life, I didn’t order anything from Taco Bell. Not a crunch wrap, not a Nachos Bel Grande, not even a Chipotle Griller for God’s sake. My belly was just too full, unusually so. I should have known something was up.

This beer suffers from diacetyl, a buttered popcorn aroma and flavor. The first day it was pretty good actually, but a day or two later: totally shit. With a little research, I found that diacetyl not only tastes like popcorn, it actually makes you full, which explains the first 3 days of drinking it and the Taco Bell nightmare. For commercial brewers, it’s not profitable to have diacetyl in the beer for this very reason – people won’t drink enough of your shitty beer.

Black IPAs fall into three camps. First, IPAs that happen to be black in color. Not my cup of tea. What’s the point? – it sets an expectation and then fails. Second, Stouts that are bitter but have no aroma. These are not bad, but not really IPAs. Third, a good Black IPA needs to be roasty and hoppy at the same time, malty and dark with a bright citrus or tropical aroma. I love Stouts. I love IPAs. It’s a good match.

I’ve made about 3 Black IPAs over the years, one of which I remember being quite good. It was roasty and hoppy. This beer, on paper, looking at the hops, would be a kick ass black session IPA. I was excited. Until I tasted the butter.

What Caused the Butter?
After my last butter lager, you think I would have learned my lesson. All beers create diacetyl during fermentation – it happens every time, no matter what. However, after fermentation, if you let the yeast “clean up” the diacetyl, by resting the beer at 72F or 75F for a few days, then you control it. This is called a “diacetyl rest.” I didn’t do it for my buttery lager, and I didn’t do it for this Black IPA. What the fuck am I doing? With brewdays under 2 hours, you would think I had the patience to let the beer sit. I’ll be more careful in the future to make sure (a) fermentation is complete and (b) the beer rests at 75 for a couple days.

The good news is that the One Pot Method probably isn’t the cause, at least I don’t think so. 30 minute boils don’t cause diacetyl, from what I understand (they cause DMS).